Arrival
by imayhaveapoint
Summary: This is a Japril AU story. Jackson and April are both successful doctors, who meet in an unlikely place. They both have things they are looking for and looking to forget, but the pressure of their new environment creates obstacles in their plans that they never expected.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story that I couldn't get out of my head. For those of you reading The Choice, I am still writing that one, too. Chapter 8 is well on its way! I just needed to get this written down so it would stop distracting me. Thanks again to everyone who is reading and reviewing my stories. It really does mean a lot. And I hope you like the first chapter of Arrival.**

I can feel the heat but I don't open my eyes. Sleeping in isn't an option here, surrounded by so many other people, but that doesn't stop me from trying to steal a few more minutes.

I pull my blanket closer to my chin just as the sun creeps across my face insisting that it's morning, that soon I will be needed, and ignoring it is useless. I sit up and stretch, seeing that most everyone is already awake, dressed, and preparing for the day. I reach down under my cot and grab my duffel bag that contains everything I brought with me. I sling the strap across my body and weave through the sea of cots and people who have now become like family to me to exit the tent.

There is a line for the community restrooms, but the wait doesn't bother me. I am used to it after six months here. And the wait gives me a chance to prepare myself for the day. It's not as if I could ever know what to expect like I did back home in an actual hospital, but still, the few minutes of quiet are priceless.

I am lost in thought when Owen Hunt nudges my arm. "Your turn," he says and nods his head in the direction of the restroom he just vacated. I give him a smile of thanks and step inside. Owen says we are lucky to have separate rooms because in other places he has been they just shared one large open room with a few shower heads and sinks. I don't know if "lucky" is the right word, but I can't say I don't appreciate the privacy. I close the door behind me, lean against it, and take a second to breathe in the solitude. It's easier to block out the noise in here. The plastic walls don't conceal all sound by any means, but it is enough to feel a bit of privacy for a moment. I drop my bag on the dusty floor and begin to strip off my clothes. A broken, rusty mirror hangs on the wall across from me and I catch my reflection in it. On the outside, I haven't changed all that much. Of course, the desert sun has tanned my skin, and I look thinner. Not weaker, but thinner. But the real changes have all happened on the inside, the part of me that the mirror cannot capture.

I came here for so many reasons. I needed to escape. I needed to be better. I needed to be anywhere but there.

I yank the ponytail holder from around my bun and let my hair fall down my back. I never wear it down here so sometimes I forget just how long it is. The handle on the wall squeaks when I turn it and the shower head sputters to life, spraying cold water on to my feet. I step under the spray, and my body tenses at first from the chill, then relaxes. This will be the only time today I am not overwhelmed with heat, so I cannot complain about the water. I grab what I need out of my bag and shower quickly, remembering the line of people waiting for their turn.

The clothes I pull out to wear are exactly the same as the ones I slept in, except these just came back from the laundry service. It usually takes about a week to get clean uniforms back, so I always look forward to wearing a clean one the first day it arrives. I tuck my camouflage pants into my boots and lace them up. This process has become second nature. My tan shirt is tucked in as well, and I decide against putting my outer top on because the heat has made its appearance early this morning, and I will be more comfortable without it.

I sweep my hair back into a bun again, make sure to brush my teeth and apply deodorant. The last part of my routine is always putting on sunscreen, not that it could ever fully block the rays here, but I would be foolish not to use it. I glance in the mirror one more time when I finish, and I can't help but think about how different my morning routine is over here. I used to spend so much time getting my hair and make-up just right, and I haven't cared about either of those things since I stepped off the helicopter. I laugh to myself at how silly it all seems now, but then I think twice, and swipe some mascara across my eyelashes quickly. A hint of the old April looks back at me, and I can't decide if I feel less homesick or more.

I toss all my belongings back in my bag and place my stethoscope around my neck as it is usually the first thing I need when treating patients here. The line for the bathrooms is much shorter now, and I hurry back to my cot knowing it won't be long before I am needed. I drop my bag to the ground and scoot it under my cot with my foot.

"Care to be part of the welcome wagon?"

I look up to see Nathan Riggs, hands on his hips, smiling at me.

"The welcome wagon? Who are we welcoming?" I ask him.

"The new group of doctors arrives today, remember? I thought you would be a good person to give them the tour. You know what it is like when you land here and reality hits that you actually signed up for this. You get that pit in your stomach and all you want to do is get back on the helicopter and go wherever it is headed. So, it's our job to make this all a little less terrifying for them. You in?" he sums up the experience of arriving here perfectly.

"Sure. But the tour? I guess I can start with the community bathrooms. That should get them excited," I am not usually this sarcastic, but saying I will give them a tour makes this place sound like a vacation destination which it certainly is not.

"Maybe save that for later. I'll get Megan to help you. You two make a great team. Besides, you keep all of us thinking positively when things get crazy, so you'll probably make a great first impression," he is trying to convince me, I can tell, but he doesn't have to. I want to help.

"Of course, I'll show them around. When are they supposed to be here?"

"Any minute actually. Megan's already headed over to the sand pit if you want to meet her there."

"Sounds good," I say and turn to leave.

"Keps!" Nathan calls after me. I turn around and he tosses me a canteen of water. "Take this. It's brutal out there today."

"Thanks." I reply and wrap the strap of the canteen across my body.

The sand pit is an appropriate name for the helicopter landing area because that is exactly what it is – sand, as far as you can see. The helicopters land here so they are far enough away from the military tents not to damage them, and for safety. Dropping down in a completely open area allows the pilot and the passengers to see everything around them and assess their surroundings so there aren't any surprises. There haven't been any issues since I arrived. Every once in a while, we get the occasional camel strolling by, but that's all the excitement that has come from the sand pit as far as I know.

"Meg!"

She is standing with her back to me looking out over the mountains when I arrive. She turns and smiles.

"Hey girl! I see Nathan roped you into this as well," I laugh.

"Yeah, I guess we're the friendly faces that will make this all seem not so bad," she says shielding her eyes and turning back to admire the horizon.

"Is it so bad? We're helping people, aren't we? A lot of the people laying in that tent back there would be dead already if we weren't here."

She glances over at me and begins searching the sky for a glimpse of our incoming allies. "April Kepner. Always the optimist."

They say that about me a lot. I'm the optimistic one, the one who motivates them to keep going, "the machine" Nathan says. But I wasn't always that way. They wouldn't have recognized me if they knew me before.

"It's kinda beautiful in a way," I think aloud. "You know, there is a magic hour, right around sunset where the sun bounces light of the sand and across the mountains. Sometimes it's almost enough to forget all the bad things we see here.

Megan shakes her head, smirking. "See what I mean? Only you could find beauty here."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe Jordan has just changed my perspective. Life has a funny way of giving us just what we need when we least expect it."

I can see by her face that she is about to comment again on my outlook on life, but her response is drowned out by the unmistakable rhythm of helicopter blades whipping the air as it prepares to land.

We both shield our eyes to look up at the approaching chopper and do our best to keep our hair tucked neatly in place against the wind.

"Game time!" Megan yells through the noise, and we watch as the pilot expertly lowers the helicopter to the ground.

Knowing the routine of welcoming new people, Megan and I split, each running to one side of the chopper to greet the passengers as they pile out. The doors open on each side, and I can see that this trip has brought us four new recruits. Four new doctors, who for some reason, left their lives behind to come to Jordan. All of us are here for a specific reason – a patient, an event, a person who pushed us out of our comfort zone and into the desert. I have yet to learn their stories, but I know that it won't take long for the pressure of this place to force it out of them.

I duck down unnecessarily as I approach the helicopter, knowing I am nowhere tall enough to be hit by the slowing blades, and I stop a few feet from the open door. Two doctors, dressed in newly purchased Army gear with perfect creases, jump out of the helicopter and survey their surroundings. I recognize the look on their faces – a mix of exhilaration and terror. I had the same one.

After a moment, they see me. They sling their bags onto their shoulders and walk to where I wait for them.

I smile and hold my hand out to shake theirs, and maybe offer a bit of comfort. The first doctor, a woman with dark eyes and dark hair, grips my hand firmly, and tells me her name.

"Dr. Yang!" she yells to be heard, "Cristina Yang!"

I turn to the other doctor. He is tall and looks refined, as if he belongs in a board room and not in the middle of the desert. I offer him my hand as well, and I can't help but notice how the desert sun highlights the color of his eyes.

"Jackson Avery!" he calls out over the hum of the blades, taking my hand in his.

"I'm April Kepner!" I call back to him, "Welcome to Jordan!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Jackson**

All I want to do is sleep. I left Boston four days ago and since then have landed in three countries and switched planes in each one. I am so screwed up from jet lag and the time change that I just want to lie down and sleep for a solid 24 hours. It doesn't look like that's going to happen though. The doctor who met us when we got off the helicopter, April, insists on showing us around. I am dead on my feet, but she seems like she has been here awhile, so I try to listen to all the information she is throwing at us. We walk at least a mile back to the area she calls "base camp," which only consists of a tent for the doctors to sleep in and a patient tent. There is another camp a few miles away, she explains, that we sometimes trade supplies with, and the closest village is ten minutes by Humvee. We take a quick tour of what she refers to as the community restrooms, and that's it. My home away from home.

April takes us in the patient tent first because that is where we will be spending the majority of our time. There must be at least fifty cots, all occupied, with injured civilians and soldiers. I am surprised to see this many patients. On our busiest day in the ER back home we didn't see anywhere near this number of people.

"Is there always this many of them?" I ask.

"Sometimes there's more," April shrugs, "but our primary concerning is helping the sick and injured, so we make it work."

"Isn't that a safety concern?" I'm not trying to push the issue, but I have to ask.

"You're in the middle of the desert in a tent. Everything is a safety concern," she replies, and it's only then that I realize she is right.

April leads us through the rows of beds to show us where the medical supplies are stored, and as we walk, she pauses to speak with almost every patient in our path. She knows each of them by name and introduces us as the new doctors. They all look at her with complete adoration.

"Someone's popular," I joke when we finally stop at the stacked containers of the limited supplies we have to work with.

She looks back at me and smiles, "They would be happy to see any of the doctors," she replies, but I don't think that is true.

Once she gives us an overview of the supply area, she tells us that we are on a rotating schedule here, and that we will be working the night shift with her starting tonight. My days and nights are so mixed up that it really doesn't matter to me what shift I am working either way.

"I try to sleep as much as I can during the day. It was hard to drown out the noise and light at first, but now I am used to it. Do you guys think you could sleep now?" she asks.

We all agree that sleeping is no problem, so she leads us to the doctors' tent to show us the area that will become our new home. There are a few empty cots scattered throughout, and she tells us to grab one and store our belongings underneath. I head over to the first bed I see not occupied and drop my bags to the ground, trying to shove them underneath. They are packed so full that not all of them will fit, so I drop the extra bag on the end of my cot and hope I can find a place for it later.

"You can store that under my cot," a voice says next to me, and I look up to see April standing next to the cot to my right.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah, I have plenty of room," she says, picking up my bag and pushing it under her cot before I have time to reconsider. "And you will probably want these," she hands me a pillow and a green blanket that feels like sandpaper, but it's better than nothing.

"Thanks," I tell her, taking them out of her hands and unfolding the blanket.

"You get used to the blanket," she explains, "Most of the time you will probably be too tired to care anyway."

"That's kinda how I'm feeling right now," I say rubbing my eyes with my palms.

"Well, get some sleep. I'll wake you when our shift starts," she squeezes my shoulder and lays down on her on cot facing away from me. I do the same, and try to get comfortable on my tiny cot. I can tell by the way her breathing slows that she is asleep within minutes of laying down. Staring at the back of her head, with her deep red hair swept back in a bun, I can't help but think she is not who I expected to find here. I pictured most of the doctors as large, strong men – military types. But instead, tiny April walked up to my helicopter. She seems soft and strong at the same time which is probably why the patients like her so much. She has a kindness about her that they need. Maybe I am underestimating her, though. She might just be perfect for this place.

* * *

It feels like I just shut my eyes when a hand is on my arm, shaking me awake.

"Jackson! You need to wake up!"

There is an urgency in their voice, but I don't immediately react. I haven't slept off the jet lag yet, and the last thing I want to do is lift my head from this pillow. I pull the blanket closer to my chin and hope they go away.

"Jackson! I need your help!" I recognize the voice this time as April's, and I force myself to open my eyes just enough to see what she needs.

"With what?" I ask, sounding more annoyed than I mean to, but damn I am tired.

"You have to get up. There's a sandstorm. We have to secure the tents."

"A what? What's a sand storm?" I swing my feet to the side of my cot and sit up, fully awake now. I quickly slide my feet into my boots and lace them up, looking up at her for an answer.

"You'll find out soon enough," she says while tying a surgical mask around her face.

She hands me a mask, and I put it on, realizing that all the other doctors around us are already wearing one.

"Grab your hat and follow me," April tells me and I do as she says, walking quickly to catch up with her.

We reach the exit of the tent, and she pauses and looks over at me before stepping outside. "It's going to be hard to see so stay close to me."

She pulls her hat and on, so I do the same, and then she pushes through the slit in the tent, and I follow close behind her.

I gasp, when we step into a swirling wall of sand. I can't see five feet in front of my face and just when I think my eyes have adjusted well enough, the wind kicks more sand up into my face, and I am disoriented again. We have only taken a few steps when I stop to look behind us to figure out where I am. I see nothing. Our tent has disappeared into the sea of tan that is all around us, and I am uneasy not knowing which way to go.

"Don't stop!" April calls back to me, and she reaches back to take my hand in hers and pull me behind her. I have no idea how she knows where she is going, but her confidence reassures me, so I trust her. I have no choice in the matter anyway.

After what seems like an eternity, April's pace slows and I can begin to make out the patient tent in front of us. I don't know how she did it, but she led us right to the entrance. She slides her arm through the opening in the tent and we step inside. April shakes the sand off her hat dropping it on to a table near the entrance, and pulls off her face mask. I do the same while she turns to a doctor standing close by and asks, "Do we have enough cement blocks for the whole tent?"

"No," he responds, clearly frustrated. "We took most of them to the other camp last week. We'll have to come up with something else."

April scans the room, and I can almost see her mind working overtime to fix whatever problem the missing cement blocks has created.

"April?"

She either doesn't hear me or doesn't want to because she doesn't answer me.

"April?" I say louder.

She breaks her focus to look over at me, "Sorry. What?"

"Can you fill me in here? What do we need cement blocks for?"

"We use them to hold down the bottom of the tent. We have to keep as much of the sand out as possible. It's not a perfect solution, but it has worked well in the past. For our patients that have respiratory issues or open wounds, the storm could be deadly, so we have to do our best to keep them protected until it passes. Usually we place the blocks all around the bottom edges, but that's not an option this time."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Give me a minute. I'll come up with something," she tells me. Her eyes narrow and her face twists up in concentration. I can tell she is chewing on the inside of her cheek, deep in thought, and then her eyes brighten and her face breaks into a smile.

"Come help me," she says, and again, I follow her knowing that wherever she is headed is the best place to be.

We walk to the opposite end of the tent where extra cots are stacked almost as tall as me, and April starts unstacking them.

"Here," she says, handing a cot to me. "We're going to put these along the edge of the tent to help hold it down since we don't have the blocks. We have to keep the sand and wind away from these patients, so this will have to work for now."

I grab some cots and start laying them along the bottom of the tent working the opposite direction as April. I'm impressed by her resourcefulness. The other doctors, who were all standing around hoping for a solution, seem to feel the same way. She transforms into a tiny drill sergeant giving them all instructions to secure the tent, and none of them hesitate to listen to her. We make it ¾ of the way around the tent before we run out of cots. We have an entire wall of the tent that is not protected from the storm. I see April realizes we are out of cots the same time I do, and I look to her, waiting for another answer that only she seems to have. She meets my eyes and begins walking toward me, yelling for Hunt and Yang as well. The four of us stand in a makeshift circle knowing that one of us has to come up with a solution.

"Can we get extra cots from our tent?" I ask, hoping to be of some help.

Hunt shakes his head at my suggestion, "The storm has picked up. If you thought it was hard to see walking over here – there's no way you'd be able to find your way back."

"Do we have anything else that weighs enough to hold against those winds?" Yang asks.

The four of us survey our surroundings looking for anything that could work.

"We could hold down the tent," April says confidently, "The doctors who aren't helping patients could sit along the bottom of the tent and use their body weight to hold it down. And we'll switch out when we get tired because it could be hours before this storm moves through. What do you guys think? Could it work?"

April looks to Hunt, knowing that they are the ones who have been through this before, and he smiles proudly at her. "It could definitely work. I'll grab Nathan and Megan and get them to help. The six of us should be enough for now. If any of you need a break, just let me know, and we can switch you out, but for now, find a spot along the tent wall and get comfortable."

I don't know why, maybe because I trust her instincts, but I follow April to a spot against the tent and pull the it tight against the ground before sitting down on it next to her. She leans forward to check that the tent is secure all the way down the wall, and then leans back with a sigh when she sees that it is.

"You said this could last hours?" I ask, part of me not wanting to hear her answer. The thought of sitting on the ground, holding this tent down for hours, sounds torturous.

"Unfortunately. One storm lasted two days, but most don't last that long," she must see the look on my face because she adds, "You get used to them. After a while, the sand storms just seem like another part of the job here."

"You said you've been here six months?" I ask, already knowing the answer. When she nods, I continue, "So what did you do before you decided to risk your life in the Army?"

She half-smiles at my question. "I was Chief of Trauma at Cincinnati Medical in Ohio. Before this, my whole career had been at that hospital. I started there as an intern and just never left. What about you? I'm sure some hospital was sad to see you go."

I think back to the day I left. I sat in the airport alone, waiting for my flight number to be called. No one was waving good-bye to me or wishing me well when I walked to the plane. I don't think anyone was sad to see me go. "I don't know about that, but I worked at Mass Gen in Boston. Plastics."

Her surprise at my specialty is obvious, and her eyes are wide with excitement. "Plastics? Really? We have never had a plastics specialist here. Jackson, do you realize how valuable you are?" I feel a pull in my stomach. I can't remember anyone ever calling me valuable, especially not for my work. I've spent years trying to be seen for who I am and not just my name, and this girl does that in one day. In this moment, I know I made the right decision getting on that plane.

I realize I haven't responded, and she is looking at me, waiting. "I don't know about that," I say with a shrug, "I just hope I can help over here somehow, you know?"

April gets a far off look in her eyes, and just as I am about to ask her where her mind is, she speaks, "Yeah. I know. That's all I want to, is to help someone."

There is sadness in her answer, but I decide not to pry. "Well, you seem to be doing plenty of that," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "You're basically running this place. Even I can see that."

She smiles and a hint of pink flushes across her cheeks in response to my compliment. "Well, Dr. Hunt is the one in charge. He taught me everything I know. I'm nowhere near as trained as he is."

"That may be true, but you're a natural at this. I saw that the second I got off the helicopter. You're calm and confident, which makes the other doctors feel at ease. But then you also radiate kindness. You say that the patients would have been happy to see any doctor earlier, but I know that's not true. You brought them joy just by being in the room. Do you know how rare that is for a doctor? Most doctors are all science and terminology and terrible bedside manner, but I can tell you aren't like that. I bet Ohio misses you." I lean into her slightly and bump my shoulder against hers playfully.

"Oh, I think Ohio is surviving just fine without me," she says quietly, and I lose her to her own thoughts again briefly, and then just as quickly as it left, the light returns to her eyes. "But I think doctors should be caring, don't you? I mean, I would feel better as a patient if I thought my doctor cared about me. So, I do my best to make every patient as comfortable as I can in a tough situation. I sit with them and listen to their stories, I tell them about myself if they ask, I pray with them-"

"Wait, you pray with them?" I interrupt.

"I do. You probably think that's strange, huh?" she scrunches up her nose expecting me to agree that a praying doctor is, in fact, strange.

"I guess I just don't see the point. I mean, we spend years studying medicine and learning how it heals people. So, what is the point of asking some God that may or may not be there for help? Either the medicine will work or it won't." I am not trying to offend her, but I feel pretty strongly about this.

"You don't believe in God?" she asks.

I sigh and lean my head back against the tent. "I just don't think there is one all-knowing God who sits up in the sky and judges us all. Maybe I'm wrong, but if he was really there, wouldn't we have proof? Isn't that what we are taught in med school? Everything can be proven with tests, data, and measurements. What proof do we have that a God exists?"

I expect her to start lecturing me on why I am wrong, but instead she says only, "You're right."

"I am?" I ask.

She laughs quietly. "Of course, you are. There is no proof, and it makes sense that you would question that. Most people do. I used to think I had it all figured out. I had perfectly balanced faith and science in my mind, and I thought I had an answer for every situation. When a patient woke up after being in a coma for five years, completely healed with no medical explanation, I attributed it to faith. When a cancer patient got a new scan and it showed their tumors were gone – just disappeared, I could only explain that with faith. Or watching the woman who was told she would never have children hold her baby for the first time. I didn't question any of those things because I thought I had the answer. Other doctors would ask, "Where did our tests and data and measurements go wrong? Science is what we rely on to know we can heal people," but I was positive a higher power had intervened. I just never prepared myself for situations where science and faith both fail."

I've never heard a Christian argue that science and faith are equally important, and that perspective makes me want to know her better. "When have they both failed? What does that mean?"

She nods in the direction of one the patients lying on a cot about ten feet away. I hadn't noticed him when we walked through the first time, but now I see a young boy, with deep burns covering his face and arms. I look back to April, waiting for her to tell me more about how he ended up here.

"He was walking home from school and got caught in an IED blast. Wrong place, wrong time. There is no other explanation. He didn't get a disease that we can treat with medicine or science. He was completely innocent. There is no faith justification for why something like that would happen to a small child. There is no explanation. It seems so random. We spend our whole lives trying to be good people and make good choices, and then BAM we're hit with something terrible anyway. Where is the faith or science in that?" The single tear running down her cheek tells me this boy's injuries are not the first time she has questioned her knowledge and beliefs. There is something much deeper there.

"Well, I get that science can't explain why he got the injuries, but it can help fix them. I've treated hundreds of burn victims at Mass Gen. When the storm clears, I'll take a look at him and start as soon as I can. I can probably minimize most of the scarring." I am beginning to see why she was so excited to have a Plastics specialist here. I'm willing to bet he isn't the only burn patient in this tent.

"Jackson, you have no idea how much that will mean to him – to all of us," she reaches out and places her hand on mine, squeezing it with gratitude.

"See? Science can fix this."

"In a way, I guess. But who's going to fix the scars inside?" she asks, and somehow, I know she isn't talking about the boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**I did not forget about this story! Here is a short update to let you know where the story it headed.**

 **April**

Jackson kept his promise. Once the dust settled, he spent the next week going over Khalid's scans deciding how best to treat the burns. Eventually, he came up with a plan to take small areas of Khalid's healthy skin and use it to grow more skin that could then replace the burned areas. While explaining the procedure to me, I could see how excited Jackson was to do this and help this little boy, but I couldn't help but to have some reservations. After working with Jackson for a week on this plan, it became obvious that he is a talented doctor. If we were back in Seattle or Boston, I would be one hundred percent confident that we could pull this off. But here? In the middle of the desert with mediocre, limited supplies? I'm not so sure. I don't tell Jackson this as I don't want him to think I doubt his abilities, but the last thing I want is for Khalid to get his hopes up and this not work out. In the end, I put my reservations aside, and throw all my support and assistance in to making sure Jackson has everything he needs to pull this off.

We sit down together at Khalid's cot one evening to tell him our plan and make sure he is okay with going through with it. Seeing us sitting net to him is nothing new as we have devoted hours every day lately to just his case. Part of Khalid's face was burned in the explosion, so when he looks up at us and smiles, only the right side of his face turns up with joy. "Dr. April! Dr. Jackson! You missed it! Oh man, I've been waiting all day to tell you what happened!"

Jackson and I exchange smiles at his enthusiasm of sharing this story with us.

"All day? Well, we're sorry we kept you waiting buddy. What did we miss?" Jackson asks with his full attention focused on Khalid's shining eyes.

"A snake! It was this big!" he holds out his arms as far as they will go to make sure we know just how big this snake was. "It slithered all the way in here and scared Dr. Megan. She jumped so high. But I just laughed. I'm used to see snakes back home. You just gotta grab a knife and chop their head off. I guess she didn't know that, though, cause she screamed and ran and then Dr. Owen pulled out his knife and killed it and threw it outside the tent. I hope he made sure it really died, though, cause sometimes they used to crawl back in the house. Mama threatened to cook one once cause he kept coming back. He musta understood her cause we didn't see him again." His eyes are wide and animated as he recalls this story of his life before this tent, when he was just a boy living in his village without so much pain and worry. I can't help but think how strong he is to be here all alone and still find something to laugh about. The tears begin to pool in my eyes, but I blink them away, not wanting Khalid to think I am sad.

"Man, we miss all the good stuff, don't we?" Jackson agrees, laughing, and meeting my eyes. He must see the emotions I am trying to hide because he surprises me by reaching across Khalid to grab my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "Hey buddy, we have something we want to talk to you about."

Khalid's face turns somber, and his voice comes out meek, "Did I do something bad?"

"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?" I say, hoping to reassure him.

"Well, Dr. Jackson did that thing where he gets the wrinkly lines on his forehead. Like he does when he's thinking real hard or mad about something. I thought maybe he was mad at me," he explains.

"No, buddy, not at all," Jackson's voice is calm and warm. "I don't think I could ever be mad at you. In fact, we may have some good news." He glances over to me, briefly, and I nod, urging him on. "We think we can fix your burns."

Gasping in surprise, Khalid's face brightens with joy. "You can?! You can fix my skin, Dr. Jackson?!"

Jackson beams back at him. "Well, we can. Dr. April and I. Or at least, we're going to try."

"Thank you!" he exclaims wrapping his arms around my neck and squeezing as tightly as his little arms can manage. "Thank you so much!"

I hug him back, soaking in his happiness, and lingering as long as possible in this moment of serenity in a place that is usually so full of chaos.

Jackson and I fill Khalid in a few more details of our plan before telling him good night, and heading back to our tent. We walk in silence at first, both of us hanging on to joy we saw on Khalid's face as long as possible. That is the first time I have seen him genuinely happy since he arrived, and now that I've seen it, I want him to always feel that way. He's a child. A boy. He deserves to be happy.

"Hey, Jackson?" I break the silence and stop walking, turning to face him – this person I just met, yet already trust completely. "We can do this, right? We can help him?"

In the moonlight, I can see the confidence in his eyes. My breath catches in my throat as he reaches out to take my face in his hands, and his voice comes out low and calming. "We can do this."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Jackson**_

The surgery to harvest Khalid's healthy skin is scheduled for two days after we first told him about our plan. That doesn't give me much time to gather what limited supplies I can find to create a makeshift lab. It isn't easy. I am used to state of the art equipment and resources to purchase anything I don't have on hand. Over here, I have to improvise, substituting items I can find on hand, and hoping they will work. There are moments when I think we should scrap the whole thing altogether. Maybe I didn't think this through. How am I going to pull off growing new skin in a tent in the middle of the desert? But then I remember the way Khalid's eyes lit up when I told him I could help, and the way April melted against me, fitting perfectly in my arms, that night outside Khalid's tent after I assured her we can do this. I can't let either of them down.

It's a fairly simple procedure that I could easily do myself, but the unpredictability of this environment makes me feel off my game a bit, so I ask April to scrub in with me. She has a calming presence, and from what I have seen, her surgery skills are impressive. Procedures here take place in make-shift ORs, which are basically small, dimly-lit tents with multiple extension cords running across the floor to a small generator connecting the equipment keeping our patient alive. I estimate Khalid's skin removal to take an hour at most, barring any unexpected complications.

Once I am scrubbed-in and gowned, I push through the opening of the tent, backwards, careful not to contaminate my gloves. I expect to find my team, preparing the surgical field, but instead I see only April, standing next to Khalid who is already deep under anesthesia. Her eyes smile at me over her surgical mask, "Ready to do this, Dr. Avery?"

I'm sure she can see my confusion as I sweep the tent with my gaze. "Where's our surgical team? Shouldn't there be a scrub nurse or anesthesiologist or someone to monitor his vitals?"

Her answer comes out slightly apologetic. "We are the surgical team, Jackson. I guess I should have explained that to you. We are so undermanned here, that we can't spare any extra medical personnel for surgeries. We have to make due with the bare minimum."

I take a second to process what she is telling me. Not only are we expected to perform the surgery in poor conditions with faulty equipment, but we also have to monitor all aspects of the patient and equipment while still concentrating on the surgical field. This may be more complicated than I thought.

"Don't look so worried," she reassures me. "We have pulled off more complicated procedures than this over here. Your patient isn't bleeding out from shrapnel or a gunshot wound. We aren't racing a clock. Just focus on doing what you do best, and I'll handle the rest, okay?"

Our eyes meet over our surgical masks, and I nod slightly, take a deep breath, and begin my first incision.

* * *

An hour later April and I are standing outside of Khalid's tent, stripping off our gowns and placing them in the contaminated materials bin. I look toward April and see she is beaming back at me.

"Jackson Avery, you've been holding out on me!" she laughs.

I feel my face warm at her compliment, "Holding out on you?"

"Yes! I mean, I knew you must be good, but you are better than good. Your technique is incredible. I mean, your hands…they way you use them…" her voice trails off as we both understand that she isn't just talking about my surgical skills.

Maybe it's the high of just making it through a surgery in the middle of a war zone, or maybe it's that this beautiful woman, smiling up at me, who believes in me more than most people in my life ever have, or maybe it's both, but I don't hesitate. Wrapping a hand around her to rest on the small of her back, I pull her against me and kiss her, softly at first, and then when she relaxes into me, the kiss deepens, and I am sure that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Our kiss is slow and soft, as we learn each other's mouths.

I could kiss her forever.

Eventually, I pull back, not wanting to push her farther than she is ready for. We stand together in the moonlight, foreheads touching, still breathing each other in.

She breaks the silence first, giggling quietly in the darkness. I laugh too, because the sound of hers is contagious. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just…I'm just happy," she replies, reaching out and taking my hand in hers.

"Me too," I agree.

"Are you tired? Cause I am wide awake. Would you want to go somewhere and talk?" she looks hopeful as she waits for my answer.

"You read my mind." I tell her, and with our hands still clasped together, I follow where she leads me.

We walk for several minutes, quietly enjoying one another's presence, until we reach a hill. For some unexplainable reason, this part of the desert sits higher than the rest and at the top, where April chooses to sit is a small patch of white flowers blooming against all odds.

She sits down, and I follow watching as she strokes a leaf on one of the flowers. "When I first got here, I wasn't sure I made the right decision. There was so much sadness and despair, you know? I came here trying to get away from that, and I just found more of it," she scoffs and shakes her head to herself. "About a month after I arrived, I had a really tough day. We were called out to a building that had been bombed about thirty miles away. We loaded the truck with all the medical supplies we could gather and went over our triage plan thoroughly on the drive there. We could not have been more prepared." She pauses, and I wait patiently to hear about this moment that April wants to share with me. Sighing she leans back on her hands and looks up to the star-sprinkled sky. "It didn't matter," she says softly. "We were too late. They were already gone. Twenty-three people. It was a church. They bombed a church," her voice rises in anger, and I contemplate if I should say something, reassure her that there was nothing she could have done, but I decide that is not what she needs. She needs me to listen, so I stay quiet.

"A church!" she repeats. "We had to check all the bodies to make sure they were really gone. We would reach for a pulse and when we didn't find one, we just stepped over the body and moved on to the next. Six of them were just kids. I thought to myself, "What kind of monster would do that? Who could hurt an innocent child?" and then I remembered. I have no place to judge them. I am no better than they are."

Her eyes find mine now, and I am overwhelmed by the sadness I see in them.

I reach out to wipe a stray tear from her cheek, and I find the words she needs to hear, "Don't say that April. You would never hurt anyone."

She shakes her head back and forth, and her voice comes out barely a whisper, "I did, though. I did hurt someone…I killed my little sister."


End file.
